Through the eyes of a career
by JazmynOdairForever
Summary: Reef is your typical career. Rude. Blood thirsty. And willing to do anything it takes to become the victor of the 25th annual hunger games.
1. Chapter 1

I wake up to the intense, golden glow of the sunlight shining behind my eyelids. My green eyes are rapidly watering, and I have no choice but to open them. "Ugh!" I groan as the blazing beams momentarily blind me. Throwing an old pillow over my face, I get up and close the tattered curtains of my aged window. I mutter something obscene about how my stupid family can't afford anything new in the ratty little district we call home. Sometimes I wish I lived in district 1, instead of 4. It always reeks of ocean and fish, causing everyone else to give off the same odour. Also, everyone lives in tiny cabin homes by the water. It might sound like a great view, but trust me its nothing special. All I see looking out of my window is boats, the dock, and the murky gray water. The only upside about living in district 4, is the strong chance of getting into the career pack. Unlike me, all of the other girls my age are terrified of the reaping. I for one, would gladly volunteer for _anyone _who was chosen to go into the Hunger Games.

I know I could win, if I tried. I'm around 5'7, and 120 pounds. Most of my weight is the muscle I have gained from fishing all my life. I also train every day by doing push ups, sit ups, and running laps. Technically we aren't supposed to train for the Games, but no one really cares. I'm in extremely good shape, and could tale down most of the guys in my school. I most likely wouldn't win any beauty contest though. My bronze curls fall limply to about my shoulders, and my green eyes are the same shade as everyone else in district 4. Being average has its ups and downs. First off, not many guys stop and look at me, but I don't care anyways. Dating isn't my largest priority in life. I have lots of others things I care about, like sports, staying in shape, and physical activity. I snap back into reality when my little sister bursts through my door of my tiny bedroom crying. "Reef! Reef!" She wails running and clinging on to my leg. She's only 12, but very small for her age. This is her first year eligible for the reaping. "What is it Coral?" I complain detaching her form my leg. Being 17, I could have easily volunteered all these years. But I was waiting for this specific year. Because this year is the 25th annual Hunger Games. Meaning it was a Quarter Quell. I love having the special twist, because it makes everything that much more fun.

Coral wipes the streaming teas from her face and sniffs sadly. "I-I'm scared!" She cries shaking from the loud annoying sobs escaping her. I roll my eyes, ticked off from her hatred of the Hunger Games. "Get over it Coral! Your not getting reaped, and even if you did It would be an honour. And besides, I would volunteer for you anyways." I half growl pushing her roughly away from me. "Now get out, and get dressed for the reaping. Its in an hour, you better hurry up." With that, she runs out of the room crying harder than before. Great, make your sister cry once again. I trudge over to my only dresser, and pull out the first item of clothing i can find. It turns out to be a green and blue dress, that was my mothers. She used to wear it for special events. Before she died. My throat tightens up at the thought of her, but I quickly push away the grief of her death. Today is a day for celebration. I _will _win the Hunger Games, and will do whatever it takes to do so. I sigh and pull the dress on over my head slowly. I contemplate putting on some makeup, but decide against it. I want to look as threatening as possible when I stand on the stage, and makeup wouldn't help that. Not the very least.


	2. Chapter 2

I contemplate on using a touch of makeup for the reaping, but decide against it. I want to look as threatening as possible when I volunteer, and makeup wont help. I finish ripping through my tangled curls of hair, and throw my brush down on my bed. When I reach the kitchen where my sister and father are waiting for me, I try my best to smile. My sister has a dress the same colour as mine, but her hair is done up in a long blonde braid. I jog over to the front door, and push it open so the cool air rushes into my house and chills us all. "Are you guys coming?" I groan tapping my foot impatiently. They nod and follow me out into the street.

We reach the square where the reaping is held just in time. I am directed to the 17 year old section, my sister to the 12 year olds, and my father to the crowd. I wait anxiously as the mayor says the same speech as every year. Once district 4's escort is up on stage, I bite my lip awaiting for her to call the names. "Ladies and gentlemen of district 4!" She exclaims in her ridiculous capital accent. The thundering clapping hurts my ears, and I see a few little kids covering their ears. "Now, lets get on with this! The boy tribute from district 4 is... Cal Kempson!" She yells a huge smile on her face. I watch as a shaking little boy from the 12 section makes his way up to the stage. The escort's large grin falters for a second at the size and age of the child, but it quickly returns when a loud male voice comes from the audience, followed by a huge kid from the 18 section racing up to the stage. "I volunteer!" His booming voice announces.

Our escort nods gratefully, and the little boy runs bac to his section crying with tears of gratitude. Its very common for volunteers in district 4, so its no surprise this happened. The volunteer is perfect career material. Huge, muscular, menacing. "Now, what is your name?" The escort asks the volunteer. He grins wickedly and says, "Im Randy Orlise. You next victor." A little too cocky formy taste, but I listen as the girls are being announced. "And now for the girls! The female tribute from district 4 is... Clare McElmon!" A tiny girl from the 13 section races on stage, a smile plastered on her thin, pale face. It disgusts me that a little kid her size is happy to be chosen. I don't hesitate to yell as loud as I can, "I volunteer!" The girl, Clare, lets out an infuriated wail and slams her foot on the ground. Brat. She angrily stomps back to her section, while I strut up to take her place. Randy gives me a calculating look, probably evaluated how good of an ally I might make.


End file.
